


10 Seconds

by Dae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Misunderstandings, Openly Gay Dean Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dae/pseuds/Dae
Summary: It all started when Dean called his brother and said, “Sammy… I think I’m gonna adopt."Then there were bruises, a very attractive, very irritated father demanding apologies, and somewhere along the lines, there was love.Go figure.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 118





	10 Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to apologize now for any grammatical errors. 
> 
> Also, Happy New Year!!

Dean never wanted any children growing up. He wasn’t the biggest fan of raising a little demon of his own, and based on the Winchester track record—his father being somewhat of a drifter and the father before him being absent from little John Winchester’s life— Dean wasn’t sure if he had the genes for that sort of task.

It didn’t help that he favored sleeping with someone who looked more like James Dean than Paula Abdul. For a while he felt like the idea was fruitless. What were the odds?

But then something strange happened when he’d turned twenty-one. His brother, Sam, liked to call it a mid-midlife crisis. Dean scoffed and shrugged it off, and said Sammy was being crazy, but there really wasn’t any other way to put it.

He’d gotten a little more than drunk and called Sam while he was down at his local bar shooting back his third shot after two beers. “Sammy… I think I’m gonna adopt,” he’d said.

To which he received a litany of sputtering and incoherent protests until his angel of a brother shouted, “Dean! Are you out of your mind?”

“Hear me out,” Dean said, and it had all spiraled out of control from there.

He had the money. Oddly enough, he wasn’t doing too badly. At twenty-one he was living at the family home in Lawrence, Kansas. His mother and father long gone. One from liver damage caused by alcohol poisoning, the other killed in a fire at her job at the hospital. He’d been working since he was sixteen and able, earning money for Sam to go to law school and living with his surrogate father, Bobby, until he was old enough to inherit the property. He’d dropped out and settled for a GED and took odd jobs until Bobby let him help out at the auto shop.

By twenty-one, Bobby gave him a piece of the company and made him the manager while he retired to his home. Insurance from his parent’s deaths gave them a head start, and when Sam turned seventeen he was ready for pre-law, tuition and all. Sam was a freshman when he received that odd call from Dean. And maybe it was because Dean’s life was, in a way, on track. Maybe it was because he was finally financially stable enough to stop living paycheck to paycheck. Or maybe he’d gotten more lonely than he’d ever admit with Sam off to school doing great things. Hell if Dean knew the real answer, but four months after that call he was driving home with a six-month-old baby strapped in the back seat of his impala.

He never regretted that decision. Hell, it may have been the best thing he’d ever done. Jack was a beautiful baby with blond hair that would soon turn a dusky sort of brown. Great big blue, inquisitive eyes. Happy and quiet. And Dean loved that kid like nothing else. Maybe, in a way, more than he loved his own brother. But sometimes, very rarely, Dean had to wonder what the hell he was thinking.

“Jesus,” was the first thing to leave his mouth when he saw his son, ten years old now and standing in their garage after school with a black eye. It was Spring. Dean had been working on his impala, and had to slide from underneath it when he heard Jack enter. He sat up all the way, placing his wrench to the side, before getting up to inspect the damage. He stood and bent forward in front of Jack, placing a large hand on the kid’s cheek and tilting his head back. “What the hell happened?”

Jack cleared his throat and smiled in that truly innocent way that he always did. “I was punched.”

Dean scoffed, “I can see that. By who?” His nerves flared as the question left his lips. It’s not like he could go to the elementary school and pick a fight with the little shit who did this to his kid. But the thought did cross his mind. Who the hell would want to hurt his Jack? The kid was a saint.

“Novak,” Jack answered, still smiling.

“Seriously? Novak? What’s this kid got against you?” Dean let go of Jack’s face and walked toward the door leading into the house. Jack clutched his book bag straps and happily followed his father.

“I’m not too sure,” Jack said as they walked out the door and rounded into the kitchen.

“Sit,” Dean instructed, gesturing toward the kitchen table. Jack did, setting his bag on the floor and folding his hands politely in his lap. Dean dug around in one of the kitchen cabinets for the first aid kit. He brought it back to the table and pulled out the cooling pack. While he squeezed and activated it, he asked, “So you fought some kid, huh?”

Jack didn’t answer, and Dean was pretty sure he knew what that meant. He placed the pack on his son’s face once it cooled up and winced as Jack hissed at the feeling.

“Hold that,” Dean instructed and Jack did as he was told. Dean pulled a chair away from the table and sat it backwards in front of his son. He sat down with his arms folded over the top of the backrest while he watched his son squirming under the scrutiny. “You didn’t fight back, did you?”

Jack shook his head.

Dean sighed, “You know, if you don’t fend for yourself they’ll just keep bullying you.”

Dean knew how that went. He’d come out as gay at the start of high school and found out exactly how bullies think. Too bad for them since he actually knew how to fight. It only took one time for them to take the hint that he wasn’t to be messed with. It also helped that he dropped out. That was a sure way to leave the bullies behind. But Jack was so sweet. Hitting back probably didn’t even occur to him. But hell if that kid didn’t deserve it. He could imagine his son was just a target of misguided, bigoted beliefs. It wasn’t a secret that Jack’s dad was a single, gay man. Even if Dean didn’t _“look gay,”_ as some would say, he’d already been to one too many PTA meetings. The looks they gave him were clear.

“Fend for myself?” Jack questioned, looking up with one uncovered eye.

“Yeah, man! You gotta show that Novak kid that you’re not to be messed with,” Dean unfolded one arm and nudged Jack’s knee. “I’m not saying beat the kid up. But if he picks another fight with you, you gotta defend yourself.”

Jack looked perplexed for a minute. His face scrunched in a way that Dean knew meant he was trying to figure something out in that big brain of his. And then he smiled and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do that.”

Dean had no idea what he’d just started.

* * *

Three days after that, it was Friday. Jack had come home in a good mood and was reading in the living room. Dean sat with a beer and a leg propped on his coffee table watching the news. An odd thing he did that reminded him that he was only thirty going on thirty-one, and yet acted like he was in his fifties at times. But aside from porn and cartoons, he liked watching the news.

The anchor was going on about some car accident when he heard his doorbell ring. He wondered for a moment if it was Sam, visiting from his busy life as a lawyer. But his wife, Jessica, was seven months along, so that visit didn’t seem right. It could’ve been Bobby, taking time off from binge drinking in his cozy life of retirement, but he usually called with his grunts and griping before a visit. Despite the logic behind it, he assumed the latter was more plausible, so when he got up and answered the door he’d already started speaking, “Bobby! You old bastard. Nice of you to come vis—”

He froze when the man on the other side of the door was revealed to be a complete stranger. He was just about the same height as Dean, maybe an inch or two shorter, standing stiff as a board in a long trench coat, casual suit and tie and a mean ass glare that Dean was pretty sure he didn’t deserve.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean said with a slight nod and twist of his lips.

“I am Castiel Novak. And you, I presume, are Dean Winchester, Jack Winchester’s father,” the man said like he was reading a script. His voice was deep and gravelly, exactly the type of voice Dean would love to hear in far more quaint scenarios, but he had a feeling this wasn’t the best time to flirt with a hot stranger. Besides, the guy’s tone was enough to set Dean’s nerves off kilter.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re… wait. Novak?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. Your son sent my daughter home with a black eye and we demand an apology.” He swiftly stepped to the side and gripped the shoulder of what appeared to be a young girl with said black eye. It looked pretty bad, if Dean were honest. Her long blonde hair barely covered the purple and blue bruising. Her arms were crossed tightly and she wore a scowl and a glare that seemed to emit young rage.

“Wait, hold on. He what?” Dean loosened his own crossed arms and peeked back into his home where he could see Jack reading on the couch, blissfully unaware of the enraged duo at their doorstep.

“Your son,” Castiel spoke slowly and condescending. “Punched my daughter in the face and gave her a black eye. We demand an apology.”

“I don’t need an apology. Dorkchester’s a wuss, he caught me off guard,” the little girl started saying.

“Claire,” Castiel said with a sigh.

“I can take him, daddy,” she said, stomping her foot and moving her arms so that her hands were fisted at her sides.

“Whoa, hold on,” Dean cut in. He was still trying to get over the whole son-hitting-girl part.

“What?” Claire snapped, looking up at Dean now. “I can take you too, old man.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little. He shook his head, “I’m not that old.”

“Old man,” she repeated defiantly.

“Claire,” Castiel warned again, this time with a sharper tone. Claire rolled her eyes, but seemed to let it go for now.

“Look,” Dean started to say. “This is all a big misunderstanding. I thought Novak was a boy, okay?”

Castiel slowly turned his head to look straight into Dean’s eyes. He narrowed his own and snarled, “Did you instruct your boy to do this?”

“I uh… Like I said,” Dean cleared his throat. “Misunderstanding.”

Castiel’s mouth twisted into a deep frown. It didn’t look like he had anything to say to that. And if he did, Dean doubted it would be anything less than scathing.

“Alright, just… come on,” Dean nodded for them to follow him inside. He could hear Claire protesting as they came in, but he ignored it in favor of approaching his son. “Jack,” he called and Jack promptly looked up with a smile.

“Yes?” he said, then looked around Dean to see the two guests standing behind him. “Hi, Novak,” he said pleasantly. “Is that your dad?”

“Bite me!” Claire barked back.

Dean gave her a look, then to Jack again. “You punched a girl?” he asked, barely masking the humor in his voice.

Jack blinked up at Dean and nodded. “You told me to.”

Castiel scoffed behind him, “Unbelievable.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but continued to focus on his son. “Yeah but, I thought Novak was a boy.”

Jack seemed to think this over, but then shook his head. “No, Novak is her last name. All the kids call her Novak.”

Dean did laugh at that. “Why?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“That is not of import,” Castiel said, commanding their attention. Dean turned to give him an incredulous look, eyebrow lifted and arms crossing again. “We came here for an apology, and that is what we’ll get.”

“And then I’m gonna beat your ass, Dorkchester,” Claire said with a fist raised.

“Hey, why don’t you control your kid?” Dean said, pointing to Claire but glaring up at Castiel.

Castiel glared right back, “We aren’t here because of Claire. We’re here because you instructed your child to beat her up.”

“I told him to defend himself. Obviously, Rosemary’s baby over there has a knack for lashing out,” Dean fired back. “And let’s not forget, my kid’s eye is still healing after your girl decided to take out her prepubescent angst on him.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Castiel said, but Dean wasn’t done.

He scoffed, “You know what? He doesn’t have anything to apologize for. He didn’t start shit.”

Castiel’s head tilted back, somehow looking down on Dean despite their height. “I now see where your son learned his manners.”

“You don’t know shit about me or my kid, pal.”

Castiel growled, “I believe I know enough. Come on, Claire.” He turned to leave, while Claire lingered for a moment to stick her tongue out and flick them off. Castiel must of sensed the gesture, because he quickly grabbed the offensive hand and dragged it along, pulling them out of the home with a slammed door behind them.

Dean stared at the door for a moment before he shook his head and huffed out, “What a dick.” He scratched the back of his head and walked around to sit beside Jack on the couch. “So,” he sighed. “Novak is actually Claire Novak, and you punched her?”

Jack smiled and nodded, “I fought back.”

“Yeah but,” Dean tilted his head and smiled. “It’s a little different when it’s a girl.”

“Why?”

“Uh… well… It’s just something you don’t do. I mean you _really_ slugged her,” he laughed a little. And he really shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t help it. The situation was just too weird.

Jack’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted in his confusion. “But you told me to fend for myself,” he said. “Isn’t that good?”

“Uh,” Dean stared at his son, trying to find the answer. God, how he wished Sam was there now. He was always good at arguing the righteous point of view. It made sense that Sam wanted to do it professionally. How the hell was Dean supposed to tell the kid he’d been bad when he all but put the boxing gloves on for him? He cleared his throat, “Just… in the future, maybe do your best to fight with your words.” It was the best he could do. “At least with Claire if she picks another fight. Okay?”

Jack looked down at his lap and nodded, “Okay. I’m sorry I disappointed you, dad.”

“Hey, no. No way, buddy,” Dean wrapped his arm around Jack with a hand on Jack’s head. He pulled him close to his chest and shook his head, “You could never disappoint me, Jack. Okay? Never.”

And maybe, he figured, he could try to clean this mess up and give Jack a good example while he was at it.

* * *

It wasn’t that hard to find Castiel’s number. There weren’t too many Novaks in the yellow pages, and only one had a strange name like Castiel. The angel of Thursday. Dean had to look it up just to see if it wasn’t some made up word. Castiel was also the only one to pop up when he searched his name in Google. Which, Dean reassured himself, wasn’t for any reason other than curiosity. The guy was a history professor and a couple years older than Dean. _Interesting_.

Or not. It was whatever, really. Didn’t matter. He just didn’t look much like a professor with his seemingly perpetual five o’clock shadow and disheveled bed head. Or those big, sleepy blue eyes and full lips, and whatever. It _really_ didn’t matter. The guy was a colossal dick, and the only reason Dean had pulled up his number was to show his son that fighting wasn’t the only answer. And sometimes, even if the guy had a stick up his ass and the girl was in need of some serious anger management, you have to admit when you’re wrong.

So, a week after Castiel’s first home visit, Dean called.

Three rings is all it took before Castiel picked up. “Hello?” His gravelly voice lilted with a tinge of confusion.

“Hey, uh, Cas?” Dean said, clearing his throat as he leaned back against his kitchen counter.

“Castiel,” he corrected. “Is this Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Look, we got off on the wrong foot. You just kinda took me by surprise. But, uh, why don’t you bring your little hell spawn over and we give you that apology you wanted.”

“My what?” Castiel growled.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, “Slip of the tongue. What do you say? Come by once school’s out.”

There was a long pause. Dean would’ve thought they’d lost connection, but he didn’t hear the tone that signified a disconnection, and finally he heard Castiel suck in a breath before he spoke, “And you and your boy will apologize?”

“Yes! The whole nine.”

“Fine,” Castiel said, then hung up.

Dean pulled his phone away and looked down at it. He shook his head and sat it to the side on the counter. “Guy sucks at goodbyes,” he grumbled.

The elementary school got out at four. Twenty minutes after that, Jack’s bus pulled up on the curb. Dean waited out with the rest of the parents to meet him. When Jack got off the bus he practically skipped over to Dean with a bruise on his cheek just below the barely healed eye.

“Oh, come on,” Dean groaned and hung his head, rubbing over his forehead with his calloused fingertips.

Jack stopped in front of him, looked up and smiled, “Hey, dad.”

Dean got down on his haunches and looked up. He reached up to brush lightly over his son’s cheek. “Don’t tell me,” he said with a sigh. “Claire?”

“Yes, after school,” Jack nodded. “But, I didn’t hit her back.”

Dean shook his head, “Well, what happened?” He turned on his heels until his back was facing Jack. The kid knew by now what to do. He stepped forward and securely wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean pulled his arms under Jack’s legs and lifted him up on his back. He started walking towards the house when he spoke again. “I mean,” he scoffed, “What’d you do to this girl anyway? You put a bug in her Lunchable?”

“No,” Jack answered earnestly.

“Then what the hell is her problem with you?”

Jack didn’t answer, and all Dean could do was shake his head when he got to their door. Just then, he spotted an old continental pulling into his driveway. Dean hunched to drop Jack off his back, “Great. I almost forgot.”

“Is that Novak?” Jack asked just as Castiel stepped out of the driver’s side. Claire followed after him looking irritable and defiant, maybe even more so than the last time.

As they got closer, Dean put his hands on his hips and said, “Come for your apology, right?”

“That is to be expected. You did call me and request our presence, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel said, sounding less agitated than the last time, but noticeably curt.

“Yeah, about that,” Dean lifted a hand to rub over his stubble. “You wanna explain this recent attack from your little princess?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in confusion, and he tilted his head in the most and completely un-adorable way. “What do you mean?”

“Your kid seems to think my kid is her personal punching bag,” Dean said, gesturing towards the newest bruise.

“That’s because he’s a little dipshit!” Claire barked angrily.

“Claire! Mind your manners,” Castiel said, raising his voice in a way that gave Claire no other choice but to listen and obey.

Even Dean felt a cool chill run down his spine at the sudden difference in tone, but he chose to stomp that feeling down and pretend it didn’t exist.

Castiel cleared his throat and looked toward Jack with a sliver of concern crossing his usually passive expression as he said, “Perhaps Claire owes you an apology in return.”

“I’m not apologizing,” Claire grumbled. Castiel closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, as if he was sending out a silent prayer along with it.

“I’m sorry I hit you, Novak,” Jack said, seemingly to calm the growing tension.

Claire rolled her eyes, “So?”

“Claire, please,” Castiel said, his voice softer now.

“What?” She snapped.

“Apologize to him. Now.”

“Look, it’s not a big deal,” Dean said, feeling uncomfortable being in the middle of what was quickly becoming none of his business. “Jack apologized and you know what? We don’t need one in return. Okay? So, let’s just… I don’t know,” he sighed. “Let’s just go our separate ways and not let this happen again.”

Castiel glared and looked like he was about to say something. But Claire beat him to it. “Whatever. I’m not sorry anyway.”

“Claire, don’t say that,” Castiel said.

“It’s true! I’m _not_ sorry and I’ll do it again too,” she turned her own glare toward Jack and raised a fist like she might make do on that promise right here and now.

“Whoa! Seriously?” Dean lightly pushed Jack behind him, shielding him before things got ugly. “What is wrong with you? You not get enough milk in your diet or something?”

“Claire is fed very well,” Castiel said, like he didn’t understand the sarcasm.

“Well, whatever. What your kid needs is a leash,” Dean snorted out a short laugh which just seemed to light a fuse in Castiel.

“Do not presume that I don’t know how to raise my daughter,” he said, fast and heated. “Thank you for your son’s apology, but it seems it was wrong for me to assume coming here was a good idea. Obviously you’re more of a child than a parent.”

Dean grinned, knowing it was just pissing Castiel off even more. “First of all, I resent that,” he said, holding up a finger. “Secondly, you’re the one who raised a rabid dog who has some sick desire to pound on my kid. So, if either one of us is more of a parent, I know who I’d bet on.”

Castiel let out another deep breath, looked down at his daughter, then back at Dean, then said, “We’re going.”

“Good! Wouldn’t want your little princess to Hulk out,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck you, old man,” Claire snapped.

“Claire,” Castiel chided. “Let’s go.”

She huffed, but followed her father back to the car.

Dean and Jack watched as they got inside and drove off. Once they were gone, Dean shook his head and led the way inside their home.

Jack was oddly quiet for a while after that. He seemed to be in his head until dinner when he made his way back to his usual, carefree self. Dean thought to ask about it, but figured it was just nerves from the minor altercation at the front door.

* * *

School was going relatively smoothly for Jack, Dean imagined, for the next two weeks. His bruises were all cleared up and he hadn’t mentioned anything about _“Novak”_ since the last time. But the other shoe had to drop eventually, and what good a time than 10:00 a.m. while Dean was at the shop. The good thing about being part owner and manager was that he rarely took any appointments. The bad thing was that he had a helluva lot of paperwork to do and getting a call from the school’s vice principal was never awesome when he still had scheduling, assignment distribution and bookkeeping to do.

“Y’ello?” Dean said, slipping his phone between his shoulder and ear while he typed out last week’s numbers in his calculator.

“Mr. Winchester?” An older woman’s voice said on the other line.

“Speaking,” he wrote out the total, then leaned back in his chair as he continued. “Who is this? And what is this about?”

“This is Mrs. Johnson at Lawrence Elementary. Uhm, I’m sorry to call you in the middle of your morning, but there’s been an incident at the school and we need you to come down here.”

“An incident?” Dean shot up in his chair and his mind immediately started racing. He did his best to calm down and taper the worst of those thoughts so he could hear the seemingly lovely Mrs. Johnson explain what the hell had happened to his son.

“Nothing too serious,” she quickly amended. “It’s just that he was caught fighting in the hallway with another student. We’d like you to come down so we can speak to you and you can take him home for the rest of the day.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean grumbled. He already knew who it was. But, despite himself, he had to ask, “It wouldn’t happen to be with someone named Claire Novak?”

“Uhm, yes actually,” she said. “He’s not really in trouble, because he didn’t fight back. But we’d still like to send him home for the day and sort some of this out.”

“Right,” Dean huffed and rubbed at his forehead. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

* * *

It only took ten minutes to get to the elementary school in this small town. Despite it being years since he truly walked these hallways, heading to the principal’s office was just like old times. He couldn’t count how many times he’d done this walk for very different reasons during his adolescent years. This, however, was the first time he’d done the walk for Jack. The kid really was a saint.

When he got to the office, the secretary let him in to where the principal sat behind a large oak desk. Oddly enough, Mrs. Karmichael was the same principal that used to reprimand Dean back in the day, just about twenty years older. The vice principal, however, was new but equally as aged, standing by the principal’s side. There were four chairs set out in front of the desk, and only one was empty. Jack was sitting in one and looked like he was nearly beaten to hell. His lip was split, he had another black eye, his clothes were ruffled and damn near torn up, and his skin was red from his chin to his neck. Despite all that he was smiling at Dean like he was his favorite person in the world.

Dean was both relieved at the expression and pissed, because who in their right fucking mind would hit a kid with a face like that?

The other two chairs were occupied by what was obviously Castiel and his demon spawn. Though neither turned to look at him as he entered.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester. Fancy seeing you here again,” Mrs. Karmichael said. And though there was definitely sarcasm in her words, her tone was nothing but warm.

“Oh, how I miss seeing my Special K,” Dean joked with a smile as he walked around to sit next to his son.

Mrs. Karmichael let out a soft laugh and nodded, “Yes well, it seems there’s never a good reason for you to be called to the principal’s office, is there?”

“You’re telling me,” Dean grumbled. He looked to Castiel and Claire. Castiel seemed to be purposely avoiding eye contact, while Claire was glaring at the principal with her arms crossed. “Hiya Cas. Wanna explain what the hell happened this time?” He lifted a hand and wrangled it through Jack’s hair. “Oh! And while you’re at it, what was it you were saying about being a parent?”

Castiel did look at him this time, and if Dean were a lesser man, he might have cowered at the dark look in his eyes.

“Claire,” Mrs. Karmichael said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Could you explain what came over you during the bathroom break?”

“It’s alright,” Jack cut in. “It was my fault.”

“What?” Dean asked, looking down at Jack.

“You don’t have to fight for me, Dorkchester,” Claire snapped.

“Claire, please be quiet,” Castiel said, sounding worn out. She glared, but clamped her mouth shut. Castiel looked to the principal with a soft smile and Dean was shocked that the man could even make such an expression. “She’s very sorry. And will accept any punishment you see fit.”

Mrs. Karmichael cleared her throat and looked to her vice principal. “Well,” she started to say, then looked back at Castiel. “Considering the circumstances, I think a week of in-school suspension would do her some good.”

“You’re kidding me!” Claire said. “That’s not fair!”

“Claire,” Castiel said next. “It’s more than fair. Please apologize to Jack.”

Claire huffed and muttered something unintelligible under her breath. The girl looked like she was about to start crying, and hell if Dean knew why. The girl didn’t have a scratch on her.

“Louder, please,” Castiel said.

“Fine!” Claire shouted. “I’m sorry!” She got up and stormed out after that. Castiel rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. He looked completely worn out and now Dean was feeling a little bad. As irrational as it felt, seeing as his kid’s the one who was beaten up, he figured it probably isn’t completely the guy’s fault that his daughter’s a nightmare.

“Thank you for your leniency,” Castiel said to Mrs. Karmichael, then looked to Jack. “And I’m sorry she did this.” His eyes flashed to Dean for a second, then he was up and gone.

Dean leaned back in his chair and sighed, “Well, that was fun.”

“It wasn’t Claire’s fault,” Jack said, and again, Dean looked at him with no small amount of confusion.

“Not her fault? Have you seen yourself?”

Jack just looked away and Dean didn’t know what to do with that. He had no idea how the kid could take a beating and still defend the girl.

“Well, I think you should take Jack home and let him get some rest,” Mrs. Karmichael said. “And Jack,” she looked to the kid. “If you want to take an extra day, I spoke to Mrs. Lee and she says that would be fine.”

Jack shook his head, “I’ll be okay.”

Mrs. Karmichael smiled sweetly and nodded. “Alright, well I’m sorry you had to be called down here for this Mr. Winchester. Hopefully it will be the first and last time.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Dean smiled, then got up. “Come on, buddy.” He held out a hand and Jack nodded before taking it. “You ladies have a lovely rest of your day.”

“You and your charm. I do miss that about you,” Mrs. Karmichael said, shaking her head as they walked out.

* * *

Jack was oddly quiet the whole way back to the shop. The kid wasn’t a natural talker, but he usually had at least something to say after school. And it seemed eventful enough for how short it was that he might want to talk about it. But he didn’t.

Once they were there, Jack sat on the couch in Dean’s office while Dean found some ointment, alcohol and bandages to clean the kid up. He wiped away the bits of dried blood, then dabbed at Jack’s split lip with the alcohol and covered it with ointment. He did the same for Jack’s cheek where the skin had broken, then put a bandage over the scratch. Once he was done, he leaned back to look over his handy work.

Jack was just staring down at his lap, eyes pinched like he was thinking. It was so strange, how smart and thoughtful the kid was at his age. Sometimes it made Dean wonder what kind of people his biological parents are or were. The kid had a brain that worked about fifteen years older than what he actually was. He’s had it since he was able to talk.

“Alright Jack-attack, you wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” Dean said, getting up from his crouched position so he could sit beside him.

“It’s just…” Jack started, looking a bit nervous now. “It wasn’t Novak’s fault.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. What’s that all about?”

Jack bit his lip, winced at the pain he must’ve forgotten about, and let it go. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jack like this. Or if he’d ever really seen Jack like this. He followed his instincts, though, and wrapped an arm around Jack. He rubbed at Jack’s arm and let out a deep breath.

“Hey,” Dean said softly. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yes,” Jack nodded. “I know.”

“Well, what is it?”

Jack peeked up at Dean and smiled a little, then back at his lap. He finally said, “What is a dyke?”

“Uh…” Dean blinked. “Excuse me?”

“A dyke,” Jack looked up again and now he was staring right into Dean’s eyes.

“Why are you asking me that?” Dean asked slowly.

Jack shrugged a little, “That’s what everyone keeps calling her. And I don’t know what it means, but it doesn’t seem nice.”

Dean cleared his throat, “Were you… calling her that too?”

Jack quickly shook his head. “No.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “So, these little twerps were calling her a dyke and what happened after that?”

“Everyone says that Novak has a crush on this other girl, Kaia. They started making fun of her, calling her a dyke. Novak started yelling at them, and I remembered what you said about using words. So, I told them that I was a dyke too, so she wouldn’t feel bad about it.” When Jack finished his explanation, the office grew quiet while Dean digested the information.

Then, as much has he tried to fight it, Dean snorted out a laugh then covered it up, rather poorly to be honest, by coughing into his fist.

“Dad?” Jack asked, looking concerned.

“No, uh,” a bit of laughter slipped out, so Dean cleared his throat. “Nothing, you uh, you said that?”

Jack nodded.

“Hm, ah, okay, well uh.” Dean tilted his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, man, okay. What happened after that?” He bit his lip so he could stop them for curling up.

“Novak got really upset and she jumped at me. But, I think she was just mad because the other kids were picking on her. It was like that the other times too.”

“Wait,” Dean cut in. “You’re telling me you’ve been sticking up for this chick and she repays you with her fists?” Dean chuckled. “What the hell is that about?”

Jack went quiet again and Dean’s smile almost immediately slipped from his face.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just…” Dean shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

“They um,” Jack paused, looking increasingly nervous. “They, well… the other kids, they used to bully me a lot too. Before Novak. They would say a lot of, um, mean things about you.”

Dean felt the color drain from his face. “Oh, Christ,” he groaned lowly, covering his eyes with a hand. He felt somewhat ashamed, and somewhat pissed.

Of course Jack was being bullied. Those parents at the PTA meetings must have told their families. And now Jack was just the son of the local queer. He should’ve known.

“Jack, I’m so sorry,” Dean said, dropped his hand. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jack looked up again, “It wasn’t that bad. Not as bad as Novak. And I didn’t want you to be mad.”

“No,” Dean shook his head. “I’m not mad, especially not at you. But, you gotta tell me these things, okay? If someone’s bullying you because of me, you have to tell me.”

Jack stared for a moment longer, then looked away and nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Dean sighed and wrangled his hand in Jack’s hair. He leaned back until his head was propped on the back of the couch and looked up at the ceiling. “So,” he said. “Now that the spotlight’s off of you, Claire’s the new target?”

Jack nodded, “Yes.”

“I get it now. The last person she wants help from is you.”

“But why?” Jack’s eyes grew incredibly wide when he turned them on Dean this time. Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Because, little dude, she resents you. But it’s not your fault, and I think we can fix this.”

“Really?” Jack smiled.

“Hell yeah. We’ll just have to change her mind about you,” Dean smiled back and leaned forward to kiss Jack’s forehead. He got up after that and walked around to his desk. He still had a lot of work to do for the shop before he made the call he had in mind.

While Dean settled at his desk, Jack pulled his binder from his backpack and started on his homework. Just as Dean pulled out the shop schedule, Jack spoke up, “Hey dad?”

“Yeah?” Dean looked up.

“What _is_ a dyke?”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “A very bad word,” was his best answer.

* * *

Jack was napping on the couch by the time Dean was done with everything. He took a moment to look at Jack, and how despite his advanced brain, how small he looked when he was sleeping. God, he’d gotten lucky.

It took five minutes for him to get the doofy look off his face and call Castiel. He’d saved his number, strictly for convenient purposes, seeing as Claire had it out for his son, and sooner or later he knew he’d need it again. That was really and truly the only reason he’d saved the number. The guy was probably married anyway.

Jesus, he needed to stop thinking.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester,” Castiel said when he picked up.

Dean smiled and chuckled, “So, you saved my number, huh?” He wasn’t flirting, he told himself. He was just naturally charming, like Mrs. Karmichael said.

He could hear Castiel sigh on the other line before speaking, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, hear me out, Cas—”

“ _Castiel_.”

Dean ignored him, “I was thinking you and Claire should come over for a little play date?”

“What?” Castiel said, sounding utterly shocked and confused. “I don’t think that would be the best idea.”

“Look, I’m tired of having to bandage my son up, and I sure as hell don’t like having to get him from school because your girl has an attitude problem. All I’m saying is, maybe she wouldn’t want to pick a fight if she grew to like him. He’s a good kid.”

“Yes, I can see that now,” Castiel said and Dean couldn’t help but smile. Hell yeah he had a good kid. Not that he needed Castiel’s approval anyway, but still.

“So, what do you say?” Dean urged and Castiel let out another sigh.

“I… suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Great!” Dean stopped there for a second, noting that he sounded way too excited for a kid’s play date. He cleared his throat and said a bit more cooly, “I mean, yeah. Awesome. Sounds good. How about Saturday? My place?”

“Sure, Mr. Winchester. I believe we are free to come that day.” Dean may have been imagining it, but Castiel almost sounded humored.

“Super. And, uh, you can call me Dean,” he was smiling now, and he wasn’t really sure why.

“Okay… Dean…” he hung up after that.

Dean chuckled. “See you then, I guess,” he said as he pulled the phone from his ear.

After that, he packed his work away and walked over to the couch to collect his son. He pulled Jack’s bag over his shoulder, then snuck his arms under Jack’s knees and head. He lifted him up and carried him out the shop to his car. He strapped him up in the back seat and drove home, reminding himself the whole way that there was no reason to feel even an ounce of excitement over a goddamn play date.

* * *

Saturday came and Castiel showed up promptly at 2:00 p.m. Even though the time was unspecified, it still seemed as punctual as ever.

Dean answered the door wiping his hands with a small towel after having just washed them. “Hey, Cas,” he smiled and looked down at a sulking Claire. “Claire,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“Hello,” Castiel said and Dean stepped aside to let them in. They followed in after them. Castiel was looking stiff with a hand on Claire’s shoulder guiding her, as if he was afraid she would turn around and bolt.

“Jack’s in the living room reading, but you kids can go out back if you want,” Dean said.

“I _don’t_ want,” she looked up at Castiel. “Can we go now?”

“No,” Castiel said. “Be nice.” He gave her a gentle shove and she propelled forward, stomping the rest of the way toward Jack. Dean watched her as she stood in front of his smiling son and all but yanked him off the couch and out to the backyard.

Dean laughed a little and shook his head, “Quite the little girl you got there.”

“Little girl, or as you call her, a rabid dog,” Castiel said, walking past Dean and sitting at the kitchen table.

“Alright, okay, maybe I was a little harsh,” Dean walked over and pulled out two mugs from the cabinet.

As he sat them down, Castiel rubbed his chin and shrugged, “It’s alright, it’s just…” he looked away, staring out the kitchen window like he was mulling over his words. After a second, it seemed like he’d given up and was content to just stare outside.

Dean took a moment to stare at Castiel’s profile, then walked over to grab the coffee pot he’d brewed just before his guests had arrived. He carried it over and filled the two mugs. “Sugar? Milk?”

“Black is fine,” Castiel said.

Dean chuckled, “Good choice.” He put the pot away then sat in the chair diagonal to Castiel’s, partially blocking his view from the window. Castiel had no choice but to turn his very blue eyes on Dean. And, God, they really were blue. They were staring right at Dean, like he was looking past the skin right to Dean’s soul.

Dean cleared his throat and looked down at his coffee, “So, maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”

Castiel chuckled softly and nodded. Dean looked up to catch the small smile lingering on Castiel’s lips. It was a nice look. “Perhaps,” he said.

The room fell oddly quiet for longer than Dean felt comfortable with. He barely knew the guy, and their only experience in each other’s company was in response to their kids hitting each other. What the hell do you even say to a person like that?

“Claire wasn’t always this way,” Castiel finally said. Dean looked over as he sipped his coffee. Castiel continued, “She changed when her mother passed away. She—,” he rubbed over his lips, and it seemed to be a nervous tick of his. Dean tried not to stare at the action. The obviously straight guy was talking about his dead wife, Dean reminded himself and proceeded to shut up and listen. “She was very close to her mother. And now I believe she’s being picked on rather mercilessly. I don’t really know why she’s taking out her aggression on your son, but I see that I may be doing something wrong.”

“No, Cas. I mean, look. I don’t know you, but you seem like an okay guy,” Dean said, placing his mug down and nudging Castiel’s arm.

Castiel squinted his eyes, “How can you know that I’m a good father?”

“Why the hell would you ask that?”

“Precisely because you don’t know me,” Castiel elaborated and Dean smiled.

“Well, isn’t that what I’m doing now? Getting to know you,” he said, and tried not to think about how flirty that might have sounded. Because he wasn’t… Flirting, that is.

Castiel gave a crooked smile and nodded, “Ah, well, you’ll find me to be quite boring.”

Dean laughed, “I don’t doubt that.”

Castiel chuckled and soon the room fell into silence once again. This time, a lot more comfortable than before.

When Dean did work himself up to speak again, his mug was empty. He scratched the corner of his brow and said, “You know, I spoke to Jack about Claire the other day.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, but sat his half-empty mug aside and looked up at Dean.

“He uh, told me they’ve been picking on her about some girl she likes. And that they’re, uh, calling her a dyke,” he wasn’t sure if that was the most tactful way to put it, but now that the words were out, he waited for Castiel to say something.

But he didn’t. He slowly nodded and looked away.

“Oh, cool, great response. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind,” Dean said with a smirk.

Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes, “Well, what would you have me say?”

Dean shrugged, “I don’t know, man. Maybe get upset? _Demand an apology_ , like you did to me.”

Castiel stared for a moment, then gave a small smile and shook his head. “That is impossible. I wouldn’t know which houses to visit.”

Dean laughed and slapped a hand on the table, “I knew it! You’d really go to all those kid’s homes if you could, wouldn’t you?”

Castiel looked at him again, still smiling and Dean hated how handsome this guy looked. “Yes,” Castiel said. “I believe I would.”

Dean shook his head, “Ah man,” he chuckled some more. “See? That right there is why you’re a good dad.”

Castiel huffed out another bit of laughter. “Maybe.”

Dean cleared his throat as the laughter died down. When he looked up again, Castiel was staring wistfully at his coffee.

Minutes later, Castiel was the one to break the silence this time. “I know that Claire is different from the other kids. But I…” he sighed, and Dean noticed he seemed to be doing a lot of that. “I don’t know how to let her know it’ll be okay.”

“Trust me, I get it.” Dean looked down and nodded. “I actually had the balls to tell my dad I was gay and he practically gave me the silent treatment. Hell, if I know if he even cared about the bruises I came home with.”

Dean was chuckling when he looked up at Castiel, but froze at the sheer shock that took over Castiel’s expression. “You’re…?” Castiel started to say, but seemed to stop himself short.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dean cleared his throat, hoping he was acting natural, despite how the sudden change in mood had spiked his hidden anxiety. “I figured you knew that, with how much all those dickbags at the PTA meetings like to talk.”

“No, I uh… I didn’t know,” Castiel said in a soft voice, and now his face was growing red. Dean couldn’t decide whether he was getting pissed or dangerously disappointed with how Castiel was reacting.

You’d think a guy with a potentially lesbian daughter at the cusps of puberty would respond better to learning that the guy sitting next to him was gay. It’s not like Dean was looking to sleep with him, though that was admittedly not off the table. Until now, at least.

“It’s getting late, I should…” Castiel trailed off as he stood from the table. He looked a bit unsettled and frantic, and now Dean really was getting pissed.

“Okay, hold on,” Dean stood up. “What is this? Some sort of gay-panic? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, you misunderstand. I… Look, it’s just that… ” Castiel’s face grew a darker shade of red.

“No, you look, asshole. I’m not ashamed about who I am, and it’s not like I grabbed your freakin’ dick and dragged you over to the other side of the goddamn rainbow. So, you can have your damn panic attack outside for all I care. Leave. ”

“Dean, please, I just didn’t realize,” Castiel tried and Dean felt his anger rising.

“Go get Claire, and get the hell out of here.” Dean stormed away after that, marching toward the back door.

He nearly popped the glass door off it’s wheels as he yanked it open. He yelled out, “You two,” he pointed at Jack and Claire. “Come inside. Claire’s leaving.”

If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have been glad to see the two of them playing makeshift soccer and Claire actually, sort of, kind of smiling. But he was angry. Not to mention disappointed, lightly ashamed, and largely put off. Cute guy with possibly-lesbian daughter turns out to be a dickhead homophobe. Great.

Jack and Claire jogged over and past Dean into the house.

Dean walked over as the kids slowed down and placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder once they met Castiel at the door.

“Thanks for playing with me, Novak,” Jack said with a smile.

“Yeah, well,” Claire huffed and rolled her eyes. “I guess it didn’t suck, Dorkchester.” And then she actually did smile, and Dean was just too angry to appreciate it.

“Dean, please, let me explain,” Castiel said, like he hadn’t even registered the kids.

“I think you made it very clear,” Dean said, then nodded up at the door.

Castiel sighed and sagged his shoulders. “Come on, Claire,” he said and turned to open the door.

Claire paused to give Jack a small wave and Jack happily returned the gesture. And just like that, they walked out and were gone.

As the door closed behind them, Dean lifted both hands to rub them up, over his face and into his hair.

“Are you okay, dad?” Jack said, looking up and concerned.

“Yeah, buddy. I’m just peachy,” he said and dropped his hands. Despite the derision in his voice, Dean smiled down at Jack just to let him know that he really was, on a surface level, okay. “Go on and get cleaned up.”

Jack nodded and ran up the stairs to the bathroom. Dean went over to the kitchen table to grab the mugs. He took a moment to glare down at Castiel’s, still half-empty.

He sneered at it and grumbled, “Dick.”

* * *

The next day Dean woke up blissfully after a night of drinking and much-needed stress release. Jack was happy enough to spend the night at Bobby’s. And, honestly, the old man needed some youthful company every now and again.

He stretched his arms above his head against the covers and as they fell to his side, he wrapped one around the warm body pressed against him.

“Good morning,” the man, whose name could’ve been something like Josh or Andy or… Maverick, said. Who the hell knew? Dean was already five drinks along when brown-hair-blue-eyes approached him.

“Hey,” Dean said, turning until he was right on top of the semi-stranger and kissing him. He vaguely wondered if he was even up for a round three. Or was it four? He wasn’t necessarily counting the night before.

He just figured, the hell with it. Why not? He slipped his tongue into the man’s mouth and worked from there. His body was already reacting to the friction between them. It helped that the two of them had passed out before the thought of clothes crossed their minds. He could feel Josh-Andy-Maverick grinding up against him and hummed low in his throat into the kiss. He pulled away with his mouth and dipped down to nibble at the soft spot right beneath the guy’s lightly stubbled chin. And, fuck, he loved that feeling. The roughness of it, how it was scratchy and still smelled of aftershave.

He was just making his way down Josh-Andy-Maverick’s neck to his chest when he heard his doorbell ring.

“Ah, dammit,” Dean groaned and laid his forehead against the man’s chest. The doorbell rung again. Dean turned his head to the door and yelled, “Can’t you see I’m busy here, pal?!” The man laughed and patted Dean on his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I should go, anyway.”

Dean looked up at him and smirked. “You sure about that?” he asked lowly, rolling his hips and grinding down at the man’s persistent erection.

The man leaned back and groaned, his eyes fluttering closed and making Dean wonder if that was at all the way Castiel would look in this situation. He cursed in his head at the throat. It didn’t help that Josh-Andy-Maverick looked a helluva lot more like Castiel than Dean would like to admit.

Another slow thrust helped him push that thought out of his head. He leaned down and kissed the guy again, feeling him up with his hands while he worked his hips. But then, the doorbell rang again. Whoever was there had started vigorously pressing the doorbell button, and Dean was truly pissed now. 

“Alright, asshole. I’m coming.” Dean pushed himself up off the bed and Josh-Andy-Maverick laughed as he rolled off after him.

“Sorry, Casanova. Maybe next time,” the man said as he started pulling on his clothes from last night while Dean went to his dresser for boxers and a pair of sweats. He didn’t think it would be right to mention that there would never be a next time.

The doorbell was still ringing when they got down the stairs. Dean rolled his eyes and shouted, “Alright! I’m coming!” The doorbell stopped.

Dean stepped up, unlocked and opened the door. He shouldn’t have been shocked. Bobby really was the only possible visitor, and seeing as Dean was supposed to pick up Jack, it wasn’t likely to be home. But, for whatever reason, he paused when he saw Castiel standing nervously on the other side. Castiel’s eyes widened even further for reasons Dean wasn’t sure he could allow himself to think. In a moment so quick, Dean nearly missed it, they darted down, almost tentatively, to Dean’s naked chest. He cleared his throat to disperse some of the tension, but Castiel just stood now, his ears growing more and more red by the second.

Ten seconds of uncomfortable staring later and Josh-Andy-Maverick squeezed around Dean and slid out the door. “Well,” he started to say, and both Dean and Castiel looked at him. “I’m off. Call me,” he said, then walked the rest of the way down to the sidewalk where he would presumably wait for his ride.

Castiel’s head slowly turned back to Dean, and that nervous look was all but completely wiped away.

Dean tried not to think about what the hell was even up with that, and focused more on the fact that he was still pissed about the day before, and how their last… hangout… had ended. Even if Castiel’s ears, and face now, were still inexplicably red.

“What the hell do you want?” Dean asked and Castiel glared up at him. Which was more than a little odd. The hell did he have to be mad about, anyway?

“I came to apologize,” he said, voice impassive. “I now see that you were busy.”

Dean ignored the tone. He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, “What exactly are you apologizing for? Being an asshole about who I am?”

“You—,” Castiel stomped his foot, looking agitated and nearly about to burst. “You did not allow me to explain myself.”

“What’s there to explain? I tell you I’m gay and you start getting twitchy,” Dean uncrossed his arms and motioned toward Castiel. He shoved them into his pockets after that and leaned against the doorframe.

Castiel took a second to just glare at Dean, and it was admittedly withering. Dean shifted his feet, but didn’t back down. “I have no problem with your sexual orientation, seeing as we share the same interests. I just…” he huffed and looked away, while Dean stood there stunned. “I just didn’t know. That’s all. I was shocked,” his face was even more red now.

Dean, for his part, was just staring with his mouth hanging open by an inch.

“I should go,” Castiel turned and walked toward his car without another word.

Dean pushed himself off the doorframe and called out, “Fine! I forgive you!”

Castiel stopped and looked at Dean. He lingered there for a moment. And when Dean thought all hope was lost, Castiel gave him a small smile and wave before ducking into his continental.

* * *

Dean was shocked for a second time later that week when he went to pick Jack up at the bus stop. The good thing was that Jack didn’t have any new bruises, the not-so-bad thing was that Claire was walking with him.

They stopped in front of Dean and Claire shook her hair off her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips. She definitely had the whole girl-with-attitude look down pat.

“Hi, old man,” she said. “I called daddy and he said I could come over after school.”

“Right,” Dean said slowly with a nod. “Maybe next time give me a heads up too, huh, Jack?” He nudged his kid’s shoulder and Jack smiled.

“Sorry, dad. I would have, but I don’t have a cellphone,” Jack said as they started on their way toward the house.

Claire’s face scrunched in disbelief. “Why don’t you have a phone?” she asked.

Jack shrugged, “I never asked for one.”

“And you don’t need one,” Dean added. “The hell is a kid gonna do with a phone?”

“Oh, I don’t know, old man. Maybe call and tell you his friend’s coming over?” she said like the answer was obvious, and Dean could admit that he sort of deserved it.

But, just to save face, he shrugged and said, “Nah. He can just use _your_ phone.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest.

Once they made it to the house, the kids immediately ran around it to get to the backyard. Dean smiled and shook his head. Kids were easy in the best kinds of ways. One hangout and they were practically attached at the hip.

While they were outside, he spent time in the living room watching the Scooby-doo marathon on Boomerang.

Five episodes in, his doorbell rang. He walked over and opened it with a smile at Castiel, who was as impassive as always.

Dean would like to say different, but the part of him that couldn’t lie to himself couldn’t help but remember just how much he’d thought about Castiel in the span of two days.

It was ridiculous, really. So, Castiel is gay or bi or whatever. It shouldn’t matter or change whatever weird friendship might bloom between the two of them. He might be… gorgeous… and obviously intelligent, but it didn’t mean Dean had any real reason to try to pursue anything.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said with a sort-of smile and half-nod.

“Hey, Cas. The kids are in the back,” Dean said and stepped back so Castiel could enter.

He hesitated for a second, but eventually Castiel accepted the silent invitation. He looked around the house, as if he hadn’t been inside twice already, until his eyes landed on Dean again.

“Want some coffee?” Dean asked, but Castiel shook his head before he made a move for the pot.

“No, I’m fine. I was just going to pick Claire up and go.”

Dean wasn’t sure why that made his stomach turn in disappointment, but it did. And hell, maybe he’d had too much cheese today. And even though he’s pretty sure he hadn’t had any dairy at all, and was vaguely aware that had nothing to do with the feeling, he chalked it up to it regardless. Then, the words flew out his mouth before he’d realized he was speaking, “You sure? I was just catching up with Shaggy and the gang when you rang.” He winced at how painfully uncool those words sounded, but didn’t make a move to take them back.

“What’s… Shaggy and the gang?” Castiel looked toward the living room, to the kitchen, then back at Dean. His eyes squinted, “Are they here?”

“No,” Dean said with a laugh. “God, no. They’re—,” Dean tilted his head. “Haven’t you ever seen Scooby-doo?”

Castiel shook his head, still with that same confused look, and said, “I’ve never heard of it.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes grew wide and his bottom lip hung low. “You’re joking, right?”

Castiel smiled and shook his head again.

“I think I’m having a heart attack. Is this real? You’ve never heard of Scooby-doo? Did you grow up on Mars?”

“I grew up in Iowa,” Castiel said, all serious and unfazed.

Dean laughed harder, “No way. This isn’t real. You know what?” Dean placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, “You are not leaving this house without watching Scooby-doo on Zombie Island.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel said, but Dean was already ushering him toward the couch.

He sat Castiel down first, then went to his DVD player to pop in Jack and his traditional Halloween movie.

After it was properly queued up, Dean walked over and sat beside Castiel. And, like always, Castiel was stiff as a board. He was sitting upright with a look of concentration that should never be reserved for a children’s movie.

Dean looked at him, watching as Castiel absorbed the movie’s intro, rather than watching it himself. It only took three minutes before Dean started laughing. “Come on, Cas. You gotta loosen up, man.”

“I’m very comfortable,” Castiel said, not bothering to look away from the movie. 

“Why not lean back? Kick your feet up or something,” Dean demonstrated by doing that very thing, propping his feet up and crossing them at the ankles on the table. He looked to Castiel and smiled.

Castiel finally tore his eyes away to look at Dean. He observed his position for a second, before adjusting to mimic it. He was still looking a bit uncomfortable, but Dean counted it as a win.

When Castiel looked back at the screen, he said, “This is a children’s movie.”

It was so deadpan, it hardly felt like a question. But, regardless, Dean answered, “I like to think it’s for any and all who are youthful at heart.”

Castiel smiled and nodded. “Yes, it’s not bad. I was never able to watch this sort of thing growing up.”

“No shit, Sherlock. You’ve never heard of Scooby-doo, for crying out loud! That should be illegal!”

“I suppose you could petition the mayor,” Castiel said and Dean laughed.

“So, you do have a sense of humor? Good to know,” Dean said, and Castiel turned so their eyes met. Dean felt himself swallow involuntarily and, before he could think about it, he looked away.

They watched the short movie in relative silence. Castiel chuckled more than Dean expected, but he’d never seen the movie, so maybe he thought it was genuinely funny.

Dean stretched his arms over his head once the credits were rolling and Castiel was still smiling. Dean looked over and raised a brow at the soft expression.

“What?” He had to ask.

Castiel turned that smile on him and Dean felt for a very brief moment like he couldn’t breathe. “I very much enjoyed that,” he said with a small nod.

Dean cleared his throat and looked away, “Good. It’s uh… it’s a classic.” He lifted the remote and turned off the TV.

Castiel nodded again, still smiling, he said, “I wonder if Claire likes this sort of thing as well.”

“You’re telling me you don’t know what types of shows she likes?” Dean asked, and it wasn’t meant to be judgmental, but he silently reprimanded himself anyway.

Castiel didn’t seem bothered by it. He just rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, “I’m afraid not. She shuts herself up in her room most days, and we don’t own a television.”

“You see? That right there is a shame. Watching TV is the ultimate bonding experience,” Dean motioned toward his own TV, and Castiel gave it an odd look.

“I suppose I did enjoy it,” he looked to Dean. “Maybe I’ll get one.”

Dean nodded. “You do that. And next time we can do movie night at yours, huh?” He wasn’t completely sure why he’d said that. But he did, and there was no taking it back.

Castiel just smiled and said, “Yes. I would like that very much.”

Dean felt his lips tugging up into a smile and he tried and failed to fight it off. “Awesome,” he whispered and Castiel’s smile grew wider.

And then they were just staring. Right about now would be a great time to lean in. They were so close, it would only take a second or so to close the distance. And, oh God, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to until this very second. Here, staring at those insanely blue eyes and a second later when they darted down to Dean’s lips.

Dean was losing the battle of keeping his hands to himself quite rapidly. Luckily (or unluckily) for him, he didn’t have to try so hard when the back door was suddenly pulled open. It knocked the sense right back into him.

They pulled away from each other, Castiel looking away while Dean watched the kids wipe their shoes and step inside.

“You guys have fun?” Dean asked, and wondered if his voice was as loud in real life as it was to his ears.

“Yes! Claire taught me how to bounce the ball on my knee,” Jack said with a wide grin.

“Oh, so you’re Claire now, huh?” Dean looked to Claire, and thankfully he felt his temperature returning to normal.

“Not everyone has the right to call me that, old man. You earn it,” Claire said, cocking her head and looking self-righteous.

Dean laughed. Hell, he was starting to like the kid.

“We should go, Claire,” Castiel finally spoke up and Dean looked over to see the nervous look returned to Castiel’s face. It was just like the one he’d had after Dean had revealed his not-so-secret secret.

Dean watched for a while as Castiel walked with Claire toward the door. Jack had already called out, “Bye, Claire!” and was walking up the stairs to get cleaned up. Dean got up from the couch just as Castiel opened the front door and jogged over to meet him before he was gone.

“Cas, wait up,” Dean said and Castiel stopped and slowly turned.

Castiel cleared his throat when Dean didn’t immediately speak and reached into his trench coat for his keys. He handed them over to Claire and said, “Wait in the car,” before turning his attention back on Dean. Claire looked between them for a second, shrugged, and walked out.

“Look. About what I said earlier. I just think it would be nice to, uh, hang out more. You know, since the kids are becoming friends and all,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes, well, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Castiel said, and his tone was noticeably different than when they were on the couch.

Dean’s eyes shifted, then he made a face like he was thinking, then asked, “Why?”

Castiel huffed, frustrated now, “Because, Dean. It just wouldn’t be wise.”

Dean shook his head, “I’m not getting it.”

Castiel stopped for a second just to glare at Dean. And once Dean had gotten the full intensity of it, he cocked his head to the side and blurted out. “I am very attracted to you, Dean. And I don’t think it would be wise, nor rational, if I were to ‘hang out’ with you more than necessary,” he said, framing his words with gesturing bunny ears, as if that made him look anything but silly.

But, given the admission, Dean wasn’t capable of much at the moment, let alone laughter.

Castiel continued, “You seem to enjoy casual relationships, while I do not. You may very well not be interested in me at all. And above all, I do not think it would be a good idea to even try something like that with the father of my daughter’s classmate. So,” he cleared his throat. “No, Dean. I don’t think it would be a good idea if we were to ‘hang out’ on a regular basis.”

Dean was still just staring. He could only pray that he wasn’t looking like a complete moron.

“I, um,” Castiel said, finally calmed from his rant and maybe feeling the weight of his implications. “I should go now. I don’t want to keep Claire waiting. Thank you for your hospitality.” He turned and left after that.

Dean stood there for another ten minutes just staring.

* * *

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean said with his phone pressed to his ear. It was a rare, boring day at the shop and if there was anything Dean was craving it was the sound of his adorable little brother.

Even if Sam insisted that the one and only time Dean had called him adorable should remain forever more the one and only time.

“How’s that wife of yours? That baby getting any closer to seeing the light of day?” He smiled when he heard Sam chuckle at that.

“Due date is two weeks away and I’m terrified. Give me something better to talk about,” Sam pleaded.

“Better than my niece?” Dean leaned back in his chair while Sam took the time to let out an exaggerated groan.

“I love her already, Dean. I swear. But, I’m freaking out. Do not make me have you fly over here because you made me have a heart attack. You’ll have to take care of me, Jess, and the baby,” Sam said, sounding smug.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I don’t already,” Dean said and Sam snorted out a laughter.

“Uh huh. And what exactly are you calling me about, now that you’ve already gotten your ego-stroke for the day?”

“Ha. Ha. Can’t a guy just call his brother to talk about the baby?”

“Right, because you wanna know how Jess salts her ice cream now, or all the lamaze classes?” Dean could really _hear_ the eye-roll over the phone.

“Oh yeah, your instructor is a dude, right? Hot?” Dean smirked as Sam sputtered.

“I am not answering that and you are not changing the subject,” Sam said once he’d collected himself, not even close to budging.

“I really did call just to hear your voice, you dick,” Dean said and it was his turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah well, maybe. But, you’re my brother. I know you. There’s something on your mind. Spill.”

Dean scoffed, “Okay, just because your older brother is gay, doesn’t mean you have to say things like ‘spill.’ Okay, Sammy?”

“I can say whatever I want, now stop trying to change the subject. Who’s the guy?”

“Who said there’s a guy? There’s no guy,” Dean said with false innocence.

“Dean,” Sam chided and Dean let out a deep sigh of defeat. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. One hand held the phone to his ear while his other hand rubbed over his face and scratched into his hair.

“Okay, there’s sort of a guy,” Dean admitted.

“He’s only part guy?” Sam asked, sounding like more of a dork than the younger Winchester would believe.

“You’re a bigger idiot than me. You know that?”

Sam snorted, but didn’t disagree. “So, please, Dean. Tell me about this partial guy.”

“I really hate you, Sammy,” Dean sighed. “And the guy, he’s like a brick wall. I mean, when we first met, the guy was a total asshat. And his daughter,” Dean whistled lowly. “She has one helluva bad attitude. She’s the one that kept hitting Jack. I told you about her.”

“Right! The girl he punched in the face,” Sam snorted and Dean groaned at the not-so-distant memory.

“Okay. Not my finest parenting moment, but get this. She was being picked on for maybe-possibly-allegedly liking another girl and she was just taking all that anger out on Jack.”

“Ah, so less Rosemary’s baby and more Carrie?”

“Have I mentioned that I hate you? And are you gonna let me tell you, or you gonna crack wise ones the whole time?”

“Okay, sorry, sorry. Please continue,” Sam said, his laughter poorly stifled.

Dean shook his head at his brother’s childishness, but continued as requested, “Okay, well. Like I said, she was being bullied and I figured if she hung around with Jack some more she’d be less likely to start whaling on him out of the blue.”

“Good point. Did it work?” Sam asked, and now he was chewing like he’d settled down for snack during Dean’s _Story time._

Dean smiled as he thought about Jack and Claire running around playing soccer. He snorted out a soft laugh and said, “Yeah, actually. It did.”

“Alright, so this partial guy is this girl’s father? I’m guessing the problem is he’s straight?” Sam said knowingly.

“That’s the thing! He’s playing for my team, but doesn’t wanna step up to the plate,” Dean rubbed a hand over his forehead and blew out a heavy breath. “And the guy is hot, Sammy. Granted, talking to the guy can be like talking to an automated phone service. A very, very hot, nerdy, scruffy automated phone service. God, and his voice. Sam, his voice drives me crazy. I feel like I could just—”

“Ah, okay, Dean! You know, you can skip over the gory details.”

“No, no. You asked for it, Sammy. I’m giving you the director’s cut,” Dean said through a laugh.

“I’ll hang up on you,” Sam warned, though he was obviously smiling. “And anyway, what’s the problem, then? Is he just not interested in you?”

“No, that’s not it either,” Dean groaned and laid forward to rest his head against his desk. His head was starting to ache thinking back on the last conversation he’d had with Castiel. Who the hell even says something like _“I am very attracted to you,”_ and then leaves? Dean had never felt so equally turned on and rejected at once than he had in that moment.

“Wait. So, the guy thinks you’re attractive?” Sam asked, voice raising along with his confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“Me either!” Dean said, waving a hand up and letting it fall slack against his desk. “Well, no. I guess I sort of get it.” He sighed as he thought over what Castiel said next. The litany of very reasonable reasons as to why one should stray away from relationships with their child’s friend’s father. And the main one being that Dean wasn’t sure if he’d even want more than just a one-night-adventure. Not to mention Castiel had made it pretty clear that a fling was not what he wanted. “It probably wouldn’t work out,” he finally said.

Sam scoffed, “Come on, Dean. You sound like you really like the guy.”

“I hardly know the guy,” Dean corrected. “Yeah, he’s hot. And while I would love to see how many positions we could fit into one night, I just don’t think I’d want it to go past that.”

“Eh. Gross, Dean,” Sam said, and Dean could imagine him scrunching his face like he usually did when Dean went in a direction Sam pretended to be far more uncomfortable with than he was. “And you realize you’re kidding yourself, right? You’ve had two real boyfriends in your whole life and you didn’t even sound like this before dating them.”

“That’s not true,” Dean grumbled.

“No, it is true, Dean. Do you even know when the last time I heard you talk about someone like this was?”

“Uh,” Dean tried to remember the last guy he’d seriously dated. Hell, it was so long ago Dean could hardly remember his name. “Brrr—ad? Brad?”

Sam laughed outright, “Nnnn—ooo,” he said mockingly. “The last time you sounded like this was ten years ago. Remember? When you were in the peak of your mid-midlife crisis and decided you wanted to dedicate your life to another human being.”

“No. Sammy, come on. This is nothing like that,” Dean shook his head. “Dude, I like the guy, but this is just… It’s not the same as—Well, you know. It’s—,” he wasn’t sure why it was so hard to fit the proper words in a sentence.

Sam cut in. “Whatever you say, Dean,” he said, as if anything that had come out of Dean’s mouth was coherent. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll let you get back to figuring all that out.”

Sam hung up after that. Dean leaned back and put his phone down on his desk. He stared blankly at his office while thinking over what Sam said. He knew he shouldn’t let it get to him, but, in a weird way, it did. His brother was only being honest, but had it really been ten years since Dean expressed this sort of interest in someone? Whether or not he thought the interest was inane, it seemed strange to think that Castiel was even close to being that important. He’d only known the guy for a few weeks. A month at best. And in the span of that time, most of it was spent glaring and arguing over something. So what if he was attractive? A lot of people were attractive. And a lot of those people didn’t have hangups regarding being the father of their child’s classmate.

But, it wasn’t like Dean didn’t notice how much he’d thought about it. Or how his entire phone conversation with Sam had turned into a strange form of relationship advice revolving solely around one very passive, very stiff individual.

* * *

Dean had figured things would get a little awkward after his last conversation with Castiel, but he didn’t think it would be as bad as it turned out to be.

Claire became a regular visitor. Most times she came on Wednesdays and Fridays after school. Other times she’d ride over on her bike on a Saturday. The first time she’d shown up Dean had learned that the Novaks only lived a couple minutes away. The only times Dean, in some way, encountered Castiel was when he was picking Claire up on a school day. The first time probably took the cake as hands down the most uncomfortable moment of Dean’s life.

It happened the Friday following Castiel’s confession. That day, Claire showed up again with Jack. They quickly moved to play outside while Dean clicked around on his TV. Castiel didn’t show up until the sun started to go down. Jack and Claire had already moved inside. Jack decided to show Claire the rest of the home, sans Dean’s bedroom— which came with a very clear warning. He could hear their footsteps thumping around upstairs when the doorbell rang.

Dean pushed himself off the couch and walked over to greet what he now came to expect to be Castiel on the other side.

He swung it open and smiled as naturally as he could manage. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what Castiel said nearly every moment of every day since he’d said it, but now wasn’t the time to blurt out anything unnecessary. Now was the time to act cool, which Dean was failing miserably at.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said when Castiel wasn’t the first to speak. Not only that, but Castiel was looking at everything but Dean.

His head was turned to the side, then he looked up, then down at his feet before he said, “Just here to collect Claire.”

Dean leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest. “You okay?” He asked, because if he wasn’t fully aware of the elephant-sized tension around them, or what caused it, he would’ve thought Castiel was having urinary tract issues with the way he was squirming.

“Yes,” Castiel answered. Dean felt himself growing more uncomfortable. He could feel a weird tightness in his chest that felt strangely close to rejection. And that was even weirder, because Castiel hadn’t even rejected him. He had just made it clear that he didn’t want any sort of relationship with Dean. That wasn’t rejection, was it?

Dean wasn’t too sure, but with the way Castiel was acting now, it sure as hell felt like it.

“Um, okay,” Dean scratched at his head. “You wanna come inside?”

“No, thank you. I’m fine here,” Castiel said, just as strained as the last answer.

Dean sighed. “Okay,” he said, then angled himself inside to shout out, “Claire! Your dad’s here!”

He could vaguely make out her shouting back, “Whatever, old man!” There was more thumping upstairs and Dean assumed she was going to be making her way down soon. So, he turned back to look at Castiel, who must have been sneaking a peek, because he quickly looked away again.

Dean cleared his throat, “You know, even though we’re not gonna have… _that_ sort of relationship. We can still be friends.” God, who was he kidding? He felt like he was begging for scraps. Dean Winchester did not need scraps. He should just accept whatever weird cordial-but-not-friendly thing this relationship had mutated to and move on.

But he couldn’t, because he’d had too much time to think about it and just enough time to realize that Castiel’s words bothered him.

Because Dean wanted more than he initially allowed himself to believe.

Castiel still wasn’t looking at him when he responded, “I never said we couldn’t be friends.”

“Well,” Dean scoffed and motioned toward him with a wave of his hand. “You’re kinda acting like you did.”

Castiel sucked in a breath through his nose and opened his mouth to say something back. But then Claire was brushing past Dean out the door and the moment was over.

“Later, old man,” she said, already bounding toward the car unbeknownst to the atmosphere.

Castiel finally did meet Dean’s eyes, very briefly, before he turned away. Dean watched them drive away feel like a complete asshat, and more confused than ever.

After that Castiel didn’t even leave his car when he came to pick up Claire. He just waited and called her to let her know he was there. It was somewhat worse to know that Castiel wouldn’t even face him, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the awkward looks and his own desperate attempts at trying to rekindle whatever the hell had been blooming between them.

_“I am very attracted to you, Dean.”_

Dean still couldn’t fully believe those words left Castiel’s lips. And maybe that was why he was sticking to this whole avoidance thing. Maybe Castiel couldn’t believe it either.

* * *

Because Dean wasn’t one to sulk and brood for long, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Not that that ever really seemed to work out for him, but what the hell, right?

Initially, he decided he needed to get laid. He figured that was the easiest way to stave off the urge to bone someone who was pretty adamant about not being boned. But it only took two anonymous hookups for Dean to lose his mojo. It’s not like he couldn’t do it, he just didn’t want to.

It was only made more painfully clear that random hookups weren’t doing the trick when his incessant need to masturbate took over like it hadn’t since he was a teen. He would really like to say that he didn’t come to the thought of calm, cool, composed Castiel keening and pleading beneath him… but he did. So many times, actually, that it was becoming a little embarrassing.

He thought about calling Sam again, but the last time they’d texted Sam had sent a lot of incoherent bullshit that could only mean Jess’ water broke. Dean had already agreed that once the faucet started leaking, he would give them their space until summer break came along so that he and Jack could help out with the baby.

And then he thought about calling Bobby. But that… just… well… he just decided to table that one.

And finally, he did the next best thing. There was only one person who’d been his friend since high school, other than Sam and Bobby, which was pretty sad.

“Jesus, I need more friends,” Dean said as he sat down on the couch and started scrolling through a list of contacts that were mostly employees.

He stopped on Jo’s name and clicked it without thinking through what he might say. It’d been months since they really talked, aside from the odd text message here and there. But, the good thing about Jo was that she wasn’t high maintenance. She didn’t need Dean to call her every week to know that he cared, or was there for her. And Dean felt the same.

“Hey, loser,” was the first thing she said when the line connected.

“Hey, ugly. What’s shaking in New York?” he said, smiling fondly at the sound of her voice.

“Oh, it’s alright. There’s nothing like Kansas, though,” she said and Dean rolled his eyes.

“There’s plenty like Kansas,” he said.

“What would you know? You’re practically a hermit.”

“A very fun, very dashing hermit,” he corrected.

“Whatever. You gonna tell me why you called? I heard Jess had the baby.”

“Yeah well, to be honest, I didn’t call to talk about my beautiful niece.”

“Oh yeah? Then why did you call?”

Dean rehashed the bulk of what had been happening over the past couple months. To Castiel showing up at his door with a scowl and a bruised daughter, to the weirdness surrounding Dean’s sexual orientation, to Castiel’s hastily blurted out confession. When he was done, Jo sounded like she was holding back laughter.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“Nothing,” Jo said, her voice distorted by what was now so obviously laughter.

“Really? I pour my heart out to you and you’re laughing at me,” Dean said, though he couldn’t help the little smile of his own. At least she couldn’t see it.

“I’m not laughing at you Dean, it’s just,” she paused for a second, still chuckling a bit. After it passed, she cleared her throat and said, “It’s just that it’s so obvious that you like this guy. And he clearly likes you too, even if I don’t see why.” Dean rolled his eyes. “My question for you is, why the hell are you calling me?”

“Uh, I don’t know, Jo. Maybe because you’re my only friend.”

“Don’t forget Sam and Bobby,” she pointed out.

“Oh, shut up,” Dean groaned.

“Okay, but seriously, Dean. Why the hell are you telling me all this? Doesn’t the solution seem kind of obvious?”

“Would you like to enlighten me?” Dean said, sounding more bored than he actually felt.

“Did you ever just try telling the guy that you like him?”

“Yeah. I mean,” he stopped to think about that. “I think I did.”

“Really? Cause it sounded like you told him you wanted to be friends, but not that you actually like the guy. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe he doesn’t think you’d actually like him back? Or that if he put himself out there, he’d be rejected? Or worse, that you’ll just sleep with him and be done with it.”

“Well, how the hell do you think I feel?”

“Right,” Jo deadpanned. “Because he totally didn’t tell you he was attracted to you, right? He basically said he thinks you’re a hottie and doesn’t wanna get hurt if you don’t want something in return.”

“But he didn’t say that,” Dean said, sounding dumbfounded.

“Subtext, Dean! God, where’s Jack? I feel like he would understand this better than you at this point.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” Dean said decidedly.

“You should. He’s probably your biggest success. Next would be if you managed to dislodge your balls and actually call this guy.”

Dean sighed and leaned back into his couch. “Maybe you got a point,” he grumbled.

“Well, duh. I always was smarter than you,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, smart ass.” She laughed again and Dean chuckled along with her.

The conversation simmered into catching up with whatever was going on in her life. She’d actually met someone too, which was nice to hear. It was only when the time to meet Jack at the bus stop rolled around that he said his goodbyes. But not before Jo gave him her last bit of wisdom and encouragement.

“Don’t screw this up, Dean,” she said before ending the call.

* * *

It took two weeks and half a dozen visits from Claire for Dean to work the nerve up to call. He could’ve confronted Castiel while he waited in his car while picking Claire up, but that didn’t feel right. Claire would eventually come out and he wouldn’t have the time to say everything he wanted to say.

So, he chose a random day during school hours to pick up his phone and, as Jo would say, _“dislodge his balls.”_

He stood in the kitchen mulling over the same words and same sentences in his head, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Finally, he just said to hell with it and clicked on Castiel’s name to initiate the call.

“Dean?” Castiel said when he answered.

“Hey, uh, you got a minute?” Dean said, staring down at his cup of coffee.

“Yes,” Castiel said, then waited while Dean fumbled in his mind for what he wanted to say.

“I mean,” he started. Paused. Then started again, “I mean, are you free to come over? I don’t know if you’re working right now or…”

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No, nothing like that, just, if you’re free,” Dean squeezed his eyes shut. He hated how nervous he sounded.

“I suppose… I could stop by. Is Claire there? She should be in school,” his tone was getting more strict, and Dean couldn’t help the little chuckle that escaped him.

“No, she’s not here. Jack too. Still in school.”

Castiel was quiet for a moment, then sighed, then said, “Dean,” like he was mildly disappointed.

“I just wanna talk,” Dean said, sounding a bit more urgent.

“We can’t talk over the phone?”

“Yeah, I mean, we could, but I’d prefer it if you brought your ass over here.”

Quiet again. Then another sigh. “I don’t know,” Castiel admitted.

“Please?” God, now he really was begging. Dean cursed under his breath as he looked up at the ceiling, waiting for what he was sure to be the inevitable decline.

“Okay. I’ll be there shortly.” And then he hung up.

It took twenty minutes for Castiel to get there. Dean just stood in his kitchen the whole time thinking over what he might say, or the best way to phrase it.

By the time Castiel did show up, Dean’s mind was all out of sorts.

He opened the door and immediately stepped aside to let Castiel in. Castiel for his part, was looking around curiously, like he expected Dean to be hiding something behind his back.

Once he’d finished surveying his surroundings, Castiel stood straight and turned to Dean. Hey, at least he was making eye contact. Dean figured that was a huge step up from the last time they spoke in person.

“What did you want to say that couldn’t be said over the phone?” Castiel said and Dean felt the pressure of an uncomfortably enormous bundle of nerves building in his gut.

“Well,” Dean started to say as he drifted off into the kitchen with his coffee still in hand. He placed the mug on a counter and turned back around to see that Castiel had followed him and was standing only about a foot away. Dean cleared his throat, “I just figured I wanted to say this in person. That’s all.”

“Say what?” Castiel urged.

“That, uh, well. That I don’t just sleep with guys I don’t care about.” It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but it was a start, he supposed. Might as well keep the ball rolling. “It’s not like I’ve never had a relationship. Or that I wouldn’t be interested in one.”

Castiel stared for a moment. His eyes were squinted thoughtfully, like he wasn’t quite sure where Dean was going with this. “Okay,” was all he ended up saying.

“Right, so. I… just thought you should know that,” Dean said, then winced. This was becoming another painfully awkward moment. Now more than ever with the way Castiel was just staring at him like Dean was speaking complete nonsense. Dean almost wished Castiel would go back to looking at everything but him. It might ease the pressure, at the very least.

“Why would I want to know something like that?” Castiel asked. There wasn’t any underlying message in his tone. It was sheer curiosity.

“Because,” Dean paused. “Well, you know, because you said you thought I was attractive.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed further. And great, now Dean was pissing him off.

“Is this what you would call ‘throwing me a bone’?” Castiel asked and cocked his head to the side in the most indignant, and endearing, way.

“No,” Dean shook his head. “No, it’s not like that.”

“Good. Because I was simply being honest. You do not have to degrade me further.”

“Degrade you?” Dean’s face scrunched in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Castiel huffed. “I’m saying that, despite my lack of people skills, I do understand when someone isn’t interested. And I’m well aware that I’ve given you no reason to be.”

Dean snorted out a laugh at that.

“What is so funny?”

“You,” Dean answered honestly. “Jo was really right about you.”

“Right about what?” Castiel tilted his head, completely lost to what Dean was getting at. “I don’t know anyone named Jo.”

“You don’t, but I do,” Dean said with a smile and a confident nod. It was probably the most confidant he’d felt ever since he’d met Castiel. “Jo’s a friend. I told her about my little predicament and she said you probably thought I was putting you in the hit-it-and-quit-it pile, or the friend-zone pile.”

“The what?” Castiel asked, truly confused now.

“Cas,” Dean shifted forward, just an inch, and placed both his hands on Castiel’s shoulders. “I like you. Like, a lot. And it’s weird because I feel like I don’t really know you, but hell, I do. And if you don’t like me back, then tell me that now. But if you do, I’m going to kiss you. Okay? You have ten seconds to decide to push me away or not.”

“What?” Castiel’s eyes widened. His face flared up and his ears were extremely red.

“Ten,” Dean started to count. “Nine… eight… seven…”

“Dean, wait. Are you sure about this?”

“Very,” Dean answered. “Five… four… three…”

“Dean,” Castiel said, but this time his voice was low and quiet like a whisper.

“Two…” Dean continued. Then paused before he got to one. He was looking deep into Castiel’s eyes, searching for anything that might allude to a slap on the cheek or being cursed out by the world’s most eloquent professor.

But Castiel was just staring back, determined almost. Those big, blue eyes were searching Dean’s right back. Likely looking for anything to suggest that this little stunt was some sort of farce; looking to see if Dean really meant it.

Yet, despite all of that, they were moving closer. By the time Dean realized it, they were only an inch or so apart. He whispered the last number, “One…” before he took the final plunge and sealed the deal.

Castiel’s lips were full and rough against his own and Dean loved it. The scratchiness from the stubble, the way Castiel hummed deep in his throat when their lips touched, how Castiel’s hands were tentative as they reached up to grip at Dean’s shirt… God, it was a moment to remember.

Dean leaned back, away from the kiss, and sighed. He felt his lips spreading into a grin, and he would’ve felt bad about it if he didn’t see the way Castiel smiled at him in return.

“I like you,” Dean repeated and Castiel huffed out a short laugh.

“I like you too,” Castiel said.

Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel again, inhaling and pushing deeper. He relished in the feeling of Castiel’s tongue brushing against his and stepped forward to mold their bodies together. The hands he kept on Castiel’s shoulders drifted lower, rubbing up and down Castiel’s arms shortly before they slipped between them, hugging Castiel closer as he tilted his head so they could fit better.

He was just starting to push his hand underneath Castiel’s shirt when Castiel hummed and pulled away.

“What?” Dean asked, sounding a bit dazed.

“Jack will be home soon,” Castiel said, and he was smiling like Dean had never seen him smile before. It looked good on him.

Dean hung his head and let out a deep breath through his nose. “Ah, I guess you’re right.” 

Castiel chuckled and nodded, then fully stepped away.

“So, uh, maybe we can do something, you know? Dinner and a movie? Gun range?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

Castiel huffed out another short laugh, “Yes,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“Awesome.”

They stared at each other, both of them grinning from ear-to-ear. They probably looked like a pair of idiots, but neither of them really cared.

And when the staring lasted a bit too long, Dean just rolled his eyes and grumbled, “What the hell.” He closed the distance again, kissing Castiel and pressing until he could back him up against the wall of the kitchen. Castiel’s hands were on his neck and Dean was back to exploring with his own. He reached under Castiel’s shirt and rubbed his hands up a smooth, bare back, clawing at it with dull nails. Castiel’s legs were pushed apart so Dean could wedge one leg between them until Castiel was nearly forced to lift one and wrap it around Dean’s thigh. Dean rotated and ground his hips, groaning at the thick bulge forming in Castiel’s trousers and the way it pressed roughly against his own.

To Dean’s surprise, Castiel was an excellent kisser. He bit and licked and sucked on Dean’s mouth like he was mapping out every curve and dip. Dean was more than appreciative to the treatment. And by then, Dean’s blood had drained down to his cock. He could feel it swelling with need and desperation. His hands traveled down and gripped Castiel’s hips. In one swift movement, he lifted Castiel, turned and walked until he was able to sit him down on the kitchen table. It was so fluid that Dean would’ve thought they’d been doing this for years.

Castiel lifted both of his legs and wrapped them around Dean’s center, and their lips didn’t even disconnect during the movement. Soon enough, Castiel was laying on his back with Dean hovering over him. In this new position, Dean was able to press closer. He could feel the full length of Castiel’s cock when he thrusted his hips forward. His brain spun at the heady feeling. It took everything in him to pull back enough to undo the buttons on Castiel’s shirt. It was hasty, his hands were shaking, and he probably didn’t have to break one of the buttons, but what the hell. Neither of them really cared.

Castiel sat up while Dean pushed his shirt and trench coat down his shoulders. Castiel wriggled until his arms were released from the fabric, and then they were back around Dean’s neck, pulling him in for another deep kiss.

They separated again so that Dean could pull his shirt over his head. It only took seconds for them to get back into it, and it was so much better now that they could really feel each other. Castiel was far more well toned than Dean imagined. The guy never skipped a workout, that was for sure.

Dean moved his attention from Castiel’s lips to his neck and shoulder, licking into the dip of his collarbone, biting and sucking at the pulse in his neck. Castiel sounded amazing, huffing and grunting and moaning from the treatment. Dean could’ve done this for hours just to hear those sounds forcing their way out of Castiel’s throat.

“Dean,” Castiel damn near whined, his voice gruff and winded.

Dean pulled away for a second to answer, “Yeah?” then went back to marking up Castiel’s neck.

“Unzip me,” Castiel said, pushing his hips up and making Dean groan from the contact.

“You sure?” Dean asked, planting kisses on Castiel’s neck.

“Please,” he begged, and Dean felt like he was about to lose his mind. He didn’t need more confirmation than that. Dean moved up to kiss Castiel again while he reached down to fulfill his request.

It was a little awkward at this angle, but he managed to get it done after a couple failed attempts. He relished in the way Castiel sighed into his mouth when his cock was released. It set his nerves on fire, and propelled him to afford himself the same treatment. He unzipped his jeans and reached inside to pull himself out. And then…

Dean pulled away and closed his eyes to really feel it. “Jesus,” he whispered as he gripped their cocks together in one hand. He had to take it slow, because he was already so close to spilling out. It felt too good to just end it like that. It didn’t help that Castiel was letting out harsh pants edged with the beginning of groans and incoherent words. He looked like a mess underneath Dean. His skin was reddening, flushed from overheating, he was mildly sweaty and his eyes were squeezed shut.

Dean took a second to really look at him. He lifted a hand to brush Castiel’s damp hair off of his face, and in that second he realized that this was important. It wasn’t like Josh-Andy-Maverick, or any other random guy he’d taken home for a night of fulfilling, yet brief, pleasure. This was different. He wanted to see this side of Castiel, but he also wanted to see that composed side. He wanted to get to know every part of Castiel’s body and his mind. Dean couldn’t think of a single other person he’d felt this way about. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating.

“Look at me, Cas,” Dean said, and he barely recognized his own voice. Castiel didn’t make a move to give Dean what he wanted right away, so Dean stroked his hand up their cocks to give him a little encouragement. Castiel choked out a moan and hissed at the feeling. “Cas,” Dean said, softer. “Look at me.”

Castiel shifted his head and slowly opened his eyes. They were glazed over and fully dilated. Dean looked right into them, and he hoped Castiel could feel everything Dean was feeling in that moment.

“That’s it,” Dean said as he pumped his fist again. Castiel started shaking all over. His hips were spasming, silently urging Dean to go faster.

So he did. He stroked up and down, rubbing at the heads of their cocks with his thumb and gripping tighter around the base. Every now and then, he leaned forward and kissed Castiel. A part of him couldn’t decide if he wanted to keep tasting him, or looking. Both were equally appealing options. So he alternated. At one moment he let himself get lost in the feeling of their lips and tongues touching and dancing together. At another, he looked into Castiel’s eyes and watched the way the pleasure seemed to shine through them.

Eventually, he started to feel his balls swell up and his nerves pinch. Any second now it would all come to an end, so he chased that feeling. They were both breathing deeper, sharper breaths. Their moans and groans were getting louder. Dean’s hand was pumping faster. Soon enough, Castiel’s hips started jerking and this animalistic sound ripped from his throat as he spilled out onto Dean’s hand, his spunk dripping down to the table and onto the floor. It was the single hottest thing Dean had ever heard, and it successfully pushed him over the edge.

He felt his dick twitch and spasm as his release pumped out of him, mixing together with Castiel’s. He let go of their spent cocks and braced himself on the table with both hands so he wouldn’t collapse on top of his newly appointed partner.

For a while, they were just trying to catch their breath. Minutes later it was Castiel who broke their silence when he started chuckling.

Dean lifted his head to look at him. His mouth curled into a lazy grin, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Castiel answered with a smile and a shake of his head. “That was just… unexpected.”

Dean laughed, “Good unexpected, or bad unexpected?”

Castiel tilted his head up and kissed him, lingering there for a moment before he leaned back again with a crooked smile, “Good unexpected.”

Dean chuckled and nodded. He had the urge to do it all again, but knew that probably wouldn’t be the best idea considering Jack would be off the bus any second now. So, with all the strength he could muster, he stepped back and tucked his half-hard dick back into his pants. Castiel sat up and did the same, fixing his own pants before moving to button up his shirt.

It was while Castiel was working on the third button that they heard the door open and close. There wasn’t much time to do anything about it. The kitchen was in full view of the front door. At the very least, Castiel did jump off the table, but with his half-unbuttoned shirt and ruffled hair, it was pretty hard to act natural. Dean hadn’t even managed to put his shirt back on, but he still attempted to play it cool.

When they turned to the door, Jack was standing there with Claire. Jack had the face of perfect innocence, while Claire was staring narrow-eyed and suspicious.

“Jack!” Dean said, louder than was absolutely necessary. “How was school?” Dean crossed his arms and discretely stepped to the side so they wouldn’t see where their seed had spilled on the table and floor. Castiel, in the meantime, was awkwardly buttoning up the remainder of his shirt, skipping over the space where one of the buttons flew off.

“Good,” he answered with a smile. “You weren’t at the bus stop.” 

“Yeah! Sorry about that, buddy,” Dean said, laughing through his nerves.

“What’s Mr. Novak doing here?” Jack asked next, his eyes moving to observe a very rattled Castiel.

Claire answered for the room, “They were having sex.”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other. Castiel looked mortified for the most part. Dean could only smile weakly and shrug.

“They were?” Jack asked Claire.

“No! We were just—,” Dean started to explain.

“Come on, Jack,” Claire cut him off, and pulled Jack by the sleeve toward the backyard.

As they watched them go, Castiel buried his face in his hands and Dean started laughing.

“This is not funny,” Castiel said in a voice muffled by his palms.

“Oh, come on,” Dean said, still laughing. “It’s kinda funny.”

Castiel dropped his hands so he could glare at Dean. Dean just smiled in return, then leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips.

It was nice after that. Apart from having to awkwardly explain sex to Jack that night, things didn’t turn out too bad.

Jack and Claire stayed best friends. Deanna, Sam and Jess’ baby, was fussy, but beautiful. Castiel was a complete idiot when it came to pop-culture, so most of their dates consisted of Star Wars and Harry Potter marathons. A year after they met, Castiel and Claire moved in. A year after that, Dean married Castiel in their backyard. Ten years later, Dean realized he didn’t have a single regret. 

With Jack and Claire off to college, Castiel was there to keep him company so that he could abstain from flying out to Michigan University to stalk his children and make sure they were okay.

Everything was great. He wasn’t sure what he did to deserve it all, but he chalked it up to him being lucky. Jo sure as hell did. Dean had a good life and if he could do it all over again, he wouldn’t change a thing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first Destiel fic. I've been dying to write about this pair ever since I decided to slam through all of Supernatural in the span of two months. That being said, I hope you all enjoyed this fic. Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think and if I should write more with this pairing~ 
> 
> Until next time <3


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